Forbidden Chances
by Purely Potter
Summary: Potter. Harry. Malfoy. Draco. Strange Feelings. Unknown Names. Whispers In The Dark. Secret Relationships, Drama, Passion and a Whole lotta slash!
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I know what you regular reader's are thinking, he's edited it AGAIN

**rioubrOkay, I know what you regular readers are thinking, he's edited it AGAIN? But I have been reading it through and it just seemed so amateur, so I have decided to do another re-write.******

**Disclaimer: All rights, names and places belong to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic Publications. No Copyright infringement is intended.******

**Warnings: M/M Slash, Moderate Language and Violent Scenes. Sexual Situations******

**Genres: Romance, Young Adult and it could get Dark.******

**Pairings: Draco/Harry, Hermione/Ron (May be subject to change) ******

**Beta: The lovely Kelsey (otherwise known as laughableblackstorm)/b**

A young boy was thrashing around in his bed, and not for the first time that summer, either. As he opened his greyish-blue eyes, he found himself in yet another pool of sweat. He sat up and glanced at himself in a nearby mirror. His blonde hair was sticking up at odd angles, and he had a very distinct bulge in his boxer shorts.

He had been dreaming all summer of just one person ― a person whom he would never have expected to be dreaming about, especially not in the ways he was. Draco Malfoy was having "teenage fantasies", as his mother called them, about his arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. He looked down at his knees and back into the mirror, where the bulge in his underwear was still visible. After a few moments he noticed the smell of the fresh sweat on his bed, and decided to go and freshen up.

As he stood under the cold spray of the shower, his mind was starting to wander back to his never-ending dream.

I_He was back on the Hogwarts staircase leading to a dormitory. It wasn't a Slytherin one, and he knew who was going to be waiting for him. He opened the door straight ahead, hoping beyond all hope that the boy wasn't waiting at the other side. (new paragraph)_

_"I knew you couldn't keep away from me," said Harry. (new paragraph)_

_His hope had been denied./I_

_He gasped as he found his back sliding down the white tiles in the shower, sweat dripping down his forehead, mixing with the cold water. He silently sat there, his back against the tiles. He put his head on his knees. He knew what his father would do if he ever found out about his dream._

_When he re-entered his bedroom several minutes later, towel-drying his hair, he found the window thrown open and fresh sheets upon his bed. On his desk was a tray with some toast, cereal and a jug of orange juice. A house-elf was on its knees in the corner, scrubbing a pumpkin juice stain from the carpet. Draco was confused for a few minutes, then remembered that his father had forbidden Slanky to use any magic around the manor, unless he had prior permission of a Malfoy._

"Slanky, get out now, I need a few minutes to myself," Draco ordered to the small, gangly creature.

"Of course, Master Malfoy, just tell Slanky when you want Slanky to continue, sir, Master Malfoy, sir" said Slanky with a series of ridiculously low bows.

Draco sat himself down on the edge of his bad and let his back fall to the mattress. He stared at the ceiling, though he wasn't really seeing it.

As he lay there, looking upwards, he remember times when his life seemed so easy. He didn't have to worry about thinking anything of Harry, as he just plain hated him. It was the way it was.

_iDraco made his way to the Slytherin Common Room. His first evening at Hogwarts had been amazing. He had every Slytherin looking up to him just because they knew how rich his father was, and how close his family was to the Dark Lord. He looked behind him as he approached the Grand Staircase and saw Potter just ahead of him. The temptation to jinx him was almost irresistible._

_Potter had had an opportunity to join him, and he had turned it down, He was so stupid. When the Dark Lord finally returned, which his father had made sure Draco knew very well would happen, Potter would be sorry he hadn't joined him. It was at that moment that he officially decided he would forever hate Harry Potter./i_

He never expected that to change.

He took in a deep breath and stood up. His towel slipped off, so he thought he may as well just get dressed. He made his way to his closet, completely naked, and looked at the mirror on its door, checking out his abs.

"I need to work out more," he expressed aloud.

He selected some loose, satin boxer shorts, a plain black vest and some loose black trousers. He then lay down at his bed and closed his eyes. He knew what was to come when he fell asleep. He knew who he was going to see, but at that moment, he really didn't care.

i_"I wish you'd stop leaving all the time, Draco, I get ever so lonely," said Harry seductively. _

_Without even realising it, he was moving. He found himself at the bed. Harry slinked behind him and started massaging his shoulders._

"_Don't you want me anymore?" asked Harry with a small giggle as he started to move his lips up his neck toward his ear, and started to suckle on it./i_

Draco awoke with a fresh bulge in his trousers again.

_iNot again/i,_ he thought.

Meanwhile, at the residence of Number 4 Privet Drive, another boy was lying in his bed, thrashing around. Harry Potter was having another night filled with disturbing dreams, which had been recurring throughout the entire summer.

_iHe was falling, falling, falling, and then his feet hit solid ground. He waited for the impact to devastate his knees, but it didn't happen. He looked around him. It was the patch underneath the Astronomy Tower, the spot where Dumbledore… Harry turned away and tried to walk the other way, but his feet were determined the stay put._

_There was a shadow in the darkness, a human figure, but it was moving in a manner that suggested it was in great pain. Then the moonlight hit its face. Harry let out a horrible scream. It was Dumbledore, moving towards him, saying in a cold, evil voice, 'Your entire fault, Harry, All your fault.'_

_Harry wretched his feet from the ground and tore off in the opposite direction, until he noticed another shape in the near distance. The Veil. Sirius stumbled out of it, the life gone from his eyes and foam frothing from his mouth. 'Your fault, this is."_

_Harry looked all around him. Dumbledore, Sirius, his parents, Cedric … All he could here was chants of "Your fault, and only your fault." He sat in a ball with his hands over his head. (new paragraph)_

_Then he felt it. Cold, clammy hands touched his arms, pulling him up. He looked into the person's face, who was instantly recognisable, with his red snake-like eyes and slits for nostrils._

"_Their deaths are all your fault, Harry, I told you. You will lose everything."/i_

Harry bolted upright, his wand ready in his hand, pointed right before him. His heart was racing and sweat was dripping from his hair. He put his head back onto his damp pillow and wept.

After several minutes, he stood up and took a good look around ― the last look around he would ever have to take of this room. He saw a few things he had left to pack for the last minute and decided to pack them after he showered. He left his room and entered the bathroom, smelling fragrant in comparison to his bedroom.

With the door latched, he began to quickly scrub himself clean under the hot spray of the shower. He saw some of Dudley's top brand shower gel and quickly squirted a bit onto the flannel and carried on washing his stomach.

"I need to work out more," he said, after feeling his abs.

After being in the bathroom for ten minutes, walking into his room almost knocked him off his feet. It smelt of a mixture of stale sweat and dust. He picked up his last few books and put them into his trunk. Hedwig was sitting on top of it in her cage, and the room was exactly as it had been the evening he had been moved in there by his uncle.

"Boy!" the voice of Vernon Dursley boomed up the staircase. "I thought you were leaving today. We have planned to have the _spare _room re-decorated, and that can't be done with your rubbish in there!"

"Don't worry, I was just leaving," Harry retorted, not having the energy to have an argument with him. A few minutes later, and he had all of his belongings sitting beside the front door, preparing to leave and walk a few blocks before flagging down the Knight Bus.

As he was about to turn, he saw Aunt Petunia closing the living room door quietly behind her and tip-toeing towards him. She pressed her finger towards her lips to signify silence, and nodded her head towards the front door.

Once outside, she began to speak. "Look, Harry, I know you may have not had the best time here, but… Well, I know what you have got to do, and… good luck. I can't explain how I know properly, but please, finish him, avenge my sister.

"This is the letter that was left with you on the day you arrived here; it should explain a few things about how I know. I cannot talk now, I really need to get back inside. But Harry, you can do this. Whatever you do, never give up hope."

And with a final pat on his shoulder, she stepped back into the house and closed the front door silently behind her. Harry turned, feeling confused, yet he felt as though a part of him was whole again. Mrs. Figg walked down the street with a bag of cat food and gave him a silent nod.

He stood there, confused as to what to do for a few moments, and then decided he would wait until he was in private to read the letter. He pocketed the slip of paper, and with one last look at the door of Number 4 Privet Drive, he left. And he was never to return.

As he approached Magnolia Crescent he suddenly smelt the distinct scent of tobacco. He recognised that smell, but where from, he couldn't quite remember. He stood there, pondering on it for a few moments, and then it came to him. A light bulb may as well have appeared above his head, seeing the amount of thought he used to hide the fact he'd figured something out.

"Dung, show yourself, wherever you are. I have no time to play games," said Harry, seemingly to thin air.

With the silent sound of steps upon concrete, Mundungus Fletcher appeared. "'Arry! 'Ow's it goin', was just in the neighbour'ood and thought I'd, you know, say 'ello …"

Harry interrupted him. "Don't ramble, Dung. You want something? What's in the bag and what crime does it involve, because either way, I am not interested."

"Well y'see, I got a message from that 'Mione girl. She says tha' I should give it you in person, see, she don't trust the owls these days. Can't really say I blame 'er. Checkin' everythin' these days, tha' Ministry are," said Dung as he fumbled around in his pockets, as if trying to find something.

"Ah, 'ere 'tis," said Mundungus as he handed Harry a crumpled up letter. "Well, I, er, gotta get goin' now, see, there's these old goblets that 'ave been lost in the post an' some mates say they can get their 'ands on some gold, and ―"

"Just go."

There was a loud crack, and Mundungus disappeared. Harry tore open the letter greedily. He had heard hardly anything from Ron and Hermione all summer and only recently got a letter telling him to meet them in Diagon Alley that afternoon.

_iHarry,_

_Sorry, but we are going to have to cancel our meeting today. Ron and I have some important things to do. Sorry._

_Hermione/i_

Harry was completely at a loss for words. This was strange, very strange. Hermione always signed her letter with a kiss. And what was so important that they didn't want to see him after so many months? Something wasn't right. He would have to ask them about it on the Hogwarts Express.

He raised his wand and heard an ear-splitting bang. There in front of him stood a violent purple, Triple-Decker bus. A tall and official looking man stood before him wearing long robes and a small badge bearing a bright "M".

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for a stranded witch or wizard. Just hold up your wand hand, come on board and we will take you wherever you wish to go. My name is Shartiple Urmtin, Ministry Official, and I shall be your conductor for this afternoon," said the man in a rather smug manner.

"I see they still haven't released Stan, then," said Harry, looking at the man with distaste.

"Potter, isn't it?" asked Shartiple with a sniffle. "Yes, well, where would you like to go this fine afternoon?"

"Leaky Cauldron," Harry answered shortly.

"Certainly, Mr. Potter." Shartiple looked him up and down, scanning him with his eyes. "This way."

Harry followed him, peering around him. The Ministry had changed the way the bus had been run in more ways than just the conductor. All of the armchairs and assortments had been removed, and replaced by the hard, yet cushion-like seats Muggle buses had. No longer was there a witch lurking in the corner, as everything had light shining upon it so it could be seen from all areas of the bus.

"Preferred it the other way, myself," Harry stated to the conductor.

"Yes, well, during a war one would have thought you'd care a little less about seats on a bus and more about keeping alive, young man," Shartiple snapped at him. He handed Harry his ticket and walked away abruptly. "Oh, and enjoy your journey."

Once the conductor had wandered off towards the newly instated driver, Harry took a look around the bus again. He may as well have been sitting on a Muggle bus, just in fast forward ― only this time it wasn't even half as exciting as when Ernie drove it. Nothing leapt out of the way of the Triple-Decker monster, as the driver drove in a perfectly straight line.

The bus was almost empty, so it did not take them long to arrive at The Leaky Cauldron. And no sooner had they stopped did the conductor approach Harry and motion him to follow. Harry did so and stepped off of the bus. The conductor didn't bother to wish him a good day; he just gave him another sniff and the bus drove away.

The street around him was as empty as it usually was. There was an old, burnt out car on a nearby corner, and a tabby cat sitting on a dustbin. Everything was quiet. The only noise was the distant traffic and creaking on the swinging sign of the pub that hung before him.

He managed to get his luggage up the steps with ease, but he tripped over the side of it and landed face- first into The Leaky Cauldron, with his luggage on his back. Harry stood up and swept himself down. The usual roar of the pub's customers didn't greet him as he had expected them too. There was only one, very old looking wizard sitting in the corner and a witch sitting in the other corner, wearing clothes that suggested she wished to become part of the wall behind her.

Tom stood behind the bar wiping some glasses, and gave him a feeble, toothless grin. He looked tired, more tired than Harry had ever seen him. Harry was sure that a lot of wizards and witches were going to be looking like that soon, all of them worried that their loved ones weren't going to return home from work.

"Young Mr. Potter, it has been a while now. What can I get for you?" said Tom. His voice sounded as weak as he looked.

"A room please, Tom, but perhaps you should sit down for a while, you don't look very well," said Harry, concerned.

"No, no, I'm fine, nothing a good glass of Firewhisky cannot handle. How long are you staying for?" He was obviously trying to make his voice more confident and assertive.

"Only four days, thanks Tom," Harry replied, knowing that he had lost this battle. "Just four days."

And at that thought, he smiled that he would be back home in four days. He had a small bounce in his step now as he followed Tom, who was now humming to himself a slow and morbid tune. But even this couldn't dampen the spirits of a boy who was returning to school soon.

**bAuthors Note: Okay all, what do you think? I have modified my writing style considerably lately and I have tried to make the story seem a lot less amateur. I hope you prefer this new writing style and I will be looking forward to your reviews.**

**Thanks for reading,**

**AND READ AND REVIEW!**

**Niall xoxo**

**PS: Thanks to my wonderful Beta, Kelsey aka Laughable Black. Storm/b**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: You know the drill

**Here's chapter two, revised. Hope you guys like it, the last version was quite embarrassing. Personally, I think it sucked. READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!******

**Disclaimer: All rights, names and places belong to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic Publications. No Copyright infringement is intended.******

**Warnings: M/M Slash, Moderate Language and Violent Scenes. Sexual Situations******

**Genres: Romance, Young Adult and it could get Dark.******

**Pairings: Draco/Harry, Hermione/Ron (May be subject to change) ******

**Beta: The lovely Kelsey (otherwise known as laughableblackstorm)**

Harry awoke the following afternoon to the smell of damp and peeling plaster. The Leaky Cauldron's lack of care had become more evident in comparison to the last time he had stayed there. He glanced at his watch, which was sitting on his bedside table. It was 1:17 pm. Hedwig hooted dolefully as he nudged her cage whilst opening his trunk. He took out a plain, faded t-shirt and some loose jeans with a belt attached. The rest of his belongings began to fall out of the trunk, but he paid no attention to them.

As he removed his trousers from the previous evening, Harry felt something square press against his leg. He emptied his pocket and found the letter his aunt had given him before he had left the previous evening. He had completely forgotten about it until that moment. Curiosity overtook him as he uncrumpled it in his hands.

Harry looked at it curiously, pondering for a few moments, as he couldn't quite decide what to do with it. Part of him, a very strong part, wanted to open it up and read all of its contents and let it wash over him, whatever the disastrous secret must be. However, the other half of his conscience wanted to burn it, act as though it had never existed. If he opened this letter, it would be like accepting that he had to do this, that he had to face _him _at some point.

He looked at it through glistening eyes, as his thoughts had led him to stop blinking for a few moments. He stuffed the letter back into his trouser pocket and closed his eyes, soothing them. When he looked up he saw Hedwig pecking the side of her cage impatiently. Harry couldn't blame her; she had been trapped in there for the better part of two days.

"Okay, girl," Harry cooed, as he opened her cage and guided her to the closed window. He opened it and watched her fly out. She flew around the open street for a few moments to stretch her wings, and then flew in the opposite direction. Harry wouldn't worry about her; she always managed to get back.

After several moments of re-arranging, Harry finally managed to cram all of his belongings back into his trunk. He knew he shouldn't have packed all of his clothes. He wouldn't be facing the problem of having to put all his stuff back.

That afternoon, Harry found himself standing outside Flourish and Blotts with a rather heavy bag filled with his books for the new school year. He stood there, as though waiting for Ron to make some stupid comment about the up coming school year, but then remembered that he wasn't with him. It felt strange to be doing this alone, and he had a feeling of loneliness in the depths of his stomach.

Diagon Alley wasn't the bustle of excitement that it had been in previous years. It was quiet, almost dead; at least last year you'd find _some_ people here.. But now all Harry saw was people inside the shops, almost as if nobody dared to leave them.

Even Knockturn Alley, although he was smart enough not to enter it, seemed dead when he poked his head round the corner. It had finally happened; Voldemort had his power. The amount of shops that had been abruptly shut down was numerous, and it wasn't uncommon to find two or three shops in a row that were closed.

Harry felt almost forbidden as he walked through the empty streets, and was surprised to see that when another person finally appeared on the street, if they saw him, they bustled away and tried not to make eye contact. He just rolled his eyes and almost ran to his next destination.

After a surprisingly short time spent shopping, Harry decided to go and visit the Weasleys' joke store to visit the twins and see how business was doing. As he approached, he could tell something was wrong without even entering the building. All of the bright posters had been taken down, all of the stock that had been laying outside the previous summer had vanished, and all that he could see were the official Ministry leaflets that all shops had put up the previous year.

As he entered the store, he saw something he did not expect: emptiness. There was not one customer in the store. And near the door was something even more shocking — a Ministry official standing there, glaring at him as though he had done him a great personal wrong.

"Harry!" came a voice not so far away. "It's good to see you, mate, how have you been?" It was Fred Weasley, or perhaps George, Harry was unsure, but it was good to see a familiar face smiling at him.

"Hey! How is business doing?" asked Harry in a polite, yet curious tone, as he peered around the empty store. "All the customers die in an experiment gone wrong?"

Fred laughed. "I wish it were that, my friend. No, it's just, with our good friend now out in the open, people do not seem to like coming here anymore. Everyone knows that the Weasleys are blood traitors, the only thing keeping this store 'safe' these days is Artie over there."

Artie, it seemed, wasn't just unpleasant to Harry; he glared at Fred as well, as if he had just insulted him by speaking his name.

"Friendly chap, really," said Fred sarcastically. "To be honest, I am surprised we haven't been shut down or gone bankrupt, but it seems the money we had last year has paid off. Although, we have limited stock supply, which would be worrying if anyone were to buy it!"

"I'm sure that you will get your customers back soon," said Harry reassuringly. "It's just a rough time for everyone at the moment, isn't it? Anyway, where is Fred?"

"It is Fred, Harry," Fred laughed. "But if you were talking about George, he is at home. Mum is trying to keep us all on tight reins these days, seems to think there will be a Death Eater attack any minute. She pleads with me every morning not to come to work, but I have to, we still get some customers."

"Well, it's been good seeing you again, Fred, I hope business picks up," Harry said. "Oh, and tell Ron and Hermione that I'm sorry they couldn't make it yesterday, I guess I will see them at school."

"What do you mean, they couldn't make it yesterday? They told us they were going to meet you yesterday. How weird, I guess they changed their plans at the last minute," said Fred, looking slightly confused.

"Er, yeah, I'm sure that is what it is," said Harry, but his tone wasn't entirely sure. "Well, I'll catch you later, Fred."

As he approached The Leaky Cauldron, he had a sudden wave of loneliness, which he couldn't describe. And then thoughts of Ron and Hermione filled his head, and made him curious as to why they didn't want to meet him the previous day.

_Probably just had something important to do__, _Harry thought to himself, trying to reassure himself. _Yeah, it's probably nothing._

When Harry entered the bar, instead of going straight to his room, he sat at the bar and decided he would attempt to make himself feel better with a good drink. He remembered his Uncle Vernon mentioning it to Aunt Petunia once that it made him feel better after a bad day at work.

"A Butter— no wait, forget that, get me a bottle of Firewhisky," said Harry, not Impolitely.

"All right, Mr. Potter. You have a rough day?" asked Tom.

"Something like that," replied Harry, trying his best to avoid conversation, and Tom seemed to get the hint.

"A Galleon and 12 Sickles," said Tom as he placed the Firewhisky in front of Harry.

Harry, not liking sitting in the middle of the bar, decided to take a seat in the corner of the pub, trying to be inconspicuous. He sat there, swigging his Firewhisky, which actually burnt his throat but provided a pleasant sensation whilst doing so.

After purchasing a second drink, the door of the bar swung open and a group of around five or six Death Eaters walked into the bar. They didn't notice Harry sitting in the corner, fortunately for him. Instead, they started for Tom.

"Well, old man, I see business is still doing as spectacularly as usual," spat one of the Death Eaters. "But you have, once again, been late with your payment to the Dark Lord. I am sure it was just an error on your part."

"Oh, of course, of course, just an error," Tom laughed nervously. "Here it is, this week's takings."

The same Death Eater took the bag and lifted it up with ease. "Again, good to see business has risen." He laughed. "Have a very, very pleasant day."

Harry was about the rise from his seat when Tom flicked his wand out of the Death Eaters' sights, and Harry was unable to move. As much as he struggled, he could not budge from the seat.

Few moments after the Death Eaters left, Tom lifted the spell from Harry, although looked out the window beforehand.

"What did you think you were doing?" Tom demanded, losing his usual polite tone. "Did you want to get yourself killed and my bar burnt?"

"I don't know what…" Harry murmured, clearly confused.

"Don't you understand? If they knew you were staying here, how fast would this pub be burnt down? Hmm, think Potter, think!" said Tom, tapping his head. "You are lucky they didn't see you to begin with, you may be safe when you get to Hogwarts, but out here in the rest of the wizarding world, you aren't!

"Now, I suggest you go and get some rest, Mr. Potter, sir," said Tom, regaining his usual polite and welcoming tone. "I bid you goodnight."

"Yes, of course, er, goodnight Tom," said Harry, not wanting to tell Tom it was only seven-thirty.

Harry made his way up the stairs and thought about what Tom had said, and started to feel incredible guilty. If Tom had not stopped him, Harry would have destroyed everything Tom owned; his home, his work, and all of his takings were taken by the Death Eaters. Harry could not put him in jeopardy.

Harry made for his bed when he opened the door of his room, and found that Hedwig was back from her flight, but she seemed agitated for some reason. Harry looked at his bed and saw a letter with vaguely familiar writing on the envelope.

He opened it and out fell two pieces of parchment: a small one that looked as though it had been torn, and the other a tad longer.

_H,_

_I am afraid I must use this initial, as this letter could be tracked. I need you to know something. I may have done some bad things in my time, but I need you to forgive me, I had no choice._

_I have to keep this vague, but you should look at the _Prophet_ tomorrow, and you will see what I mean._

_I am so sorry._

_T. P__._

Harry looked at it, confusion written on his face. Who the hell was P? And what was he sorry for? Harry was extremely confused. He picked up the torn piece of parchment. It had a headline on it, but the article had been torn off. The headline read: _The Tomb of Albus Dumbledore: Invaded!_

"Oh crap!" was all that Harry could exclaim in his shock.

_Wait until Ron and Hermione hear about this. They're in for a very big surprise. Who would invade his tomb_? All of these thoughts were going through Harry's head.

Just as he lunged for his trunk to get some quills, he saw Pigwidgeon fly through his window and flap around his head excitedly. He was holding a letter in his beak that was clearly written by Hermione.

_Harry,_

_Ron and I have just received letters from somebody called T. P. I am positive you would have gotten one too, If not, I have attached one just in case for you to read._

_Again, I am sorry about not being able to meet you yesterday, Ron and I had some things we had to discuss. We will see you tomorrow for the wedding. You did remember to bring your dress robes, didn't you?_

_Hermione_

_Xx_

As Harry read this it took him my utter surprise. Why would T. P. send it to Ron and Hermione too? And also, Hermione was back to her usual self again. This was all too confusing. When Harry read the last line his mouth fell open. If the truth were to be told, Harry had forgotten about the wedding.

He quickly scrawled a note back explaining he got a letter too, and of course he hadn't forgotten the wedding. He tied it to Hedwig's leg, who was less than pleased to have been awoken, but Harry had no choice, as Pig had flown away. He then raced back downstairs to the bar, only to stop before entering, as he had to peer around to make sure there were no Death Eaters about. As he made for the door, Tom asked him where he thought he was going.

"Mr. Potter, as you may not be aware, He Who Must Not Be Named is now back in the open. Do you think it is wise for people to go out at night, especially a certain someone like yourself?" Tom said, again taking up his more abrupt tone.

"Well, I, er, need to go to Madam Malkin's, as I forgot to get some new robes earlier," Harry lied, although it was true he had to go to Madam Malkin's. "I shan't be long."

"Well, you better not be long, Dementors start their patrol in one hour, and Madam Malkin's closes in forty-five minutes. Hurry," said Tom, knowing that he was not going to win this battle.

"I will be back in half an hour tops, I swear," said Harry reassuringly, and he left the bar.

As he sped to Madam Malkin's, he wasn't quite sure what robes to get, but he didn't have the time to pick and choose, so as he opened the door he decided to go straight to the desk.

"Well, I am closing in half an hour, boy, so you better tell me why you have returned here quickly," said Madam Malkin sternly, sounding frighteningly like Professor McGonagall when she was awoken.

"I need some dress robes, ma'am, I forgot to get them earlier, and I have a wedding to go to tomorrow," Harry explained quickly. "I know you are closing soon, but I really need them."

"Well, lucky for you, Mr. Potter, I have a very nice set of dress robes that are purposefully for weddings, and they are already fitted to someone roughly your size. It will take me just a few minutes to tweak it," said Madam Malkin, relieved that it was not a large job to undertake.

"That sounds perfect," replied Harry, sounding even more relieved than Madam Malkin did.

"Here they are," she said as they approached the nicest set of robes Harry had every seen. They were black and had a purple glow. They were made of a velvet-like material and had a white shirt to go with it.

"They're, well, perfect," uttered Harry in awe.

After she was done measuring him and wrapping the robes up for him, Harry had just ten minutes to spare.

"Forty Galleons, please," she stated, and smiled that she had neglected to mention the price beforehand.

"Forty…you couldn't have told me this before?" Harry asked, looking astounded.

"Well, if you cannot afford them…" she started, reaching for the robes.

"No, no, I will pay for them, although in the future, do tell me how much things cost," said Harry, who really didn't have the time to change the robes now. "Thank you very much!"

Harry made it back to The Leaky Cauldron with not a second to spare. "I told you I would make it."

"Yes you did, Mr. Potter, sir, I never doubted it. Now, I suggest you get tucked away in your room, I am afraid it is time for the bar to close," said Tom in his usual tone again.

"Goodnight, Tom," said Harry.

Harry went to his room, hung his new robes on the door handle, and flopped onto the bed. All he wanted to do was sleep, even at the early time it was, but he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a cloaked, hooded figure writing a message, signing it T. P., over and over again.

Then Harry saw it. He saw the same figure moving into Hogwarts grounds, and opening Professor Dumbledore's tomb. And then all he could see was the rotting corpse of Albus Dumbledore.

**Well, here we are, another chapter of Forbidden Chances. I am so, so sorry it was so late, and I know I promised it weeks ago, but I have been having some issues.**

**I hope you like this chapter, and I am taking this story in a completely different direction than I did with the original. And please remember to review!**

**Beta's Thought:**


	3. Chapter 3

Well Here is Chapter Three Y'all, I tried to make this one longer and am experimenting with different writing styles so would appreciate the feedback

**Well, here is chapter three y'all. I tried to make this one longer and am experimenting with different writing styles, so would appreciate the feedback********.**

**Disclaimer: All rights, names and places belong to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic Publications. No Copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: M/M Slash, Moderate Language and Sexual Situations**

**Genres: Romance, Young Adult and it could get Dark.**

**Pairings: Draco/Harry, Hermione/Ron (May be subject to change)**

**Beta: The lovely Kelsey (otherwise known as laughableblackstorm)**

Waves crashed off the side of a cliff, the sound filling the air as though it were happening inside her very own head. The smell of salt water filled her nostrils as she walked as slowly as she could towards the meeting place—oh, how she wished she wasn't here. She had been forced to attend these meetings ever since— She couldn't bring herself to think about why she had to be there. The pain and guilt she had been feeling the last few months washed back over her again.

She could hear footsteps in the sand and very slowly she turned her head, hoping beyond all hope that it wasn't another Death Eater she would have to take abuse from about her son. At first she was surprised that she could hear the sounds of anything aside from the waves, but this soon vanished as anger welled up inside her when she saw who it was.

"I thought you were excused from these little...gatherings," she spat at her new companion, hatred flowing through her veins faster than the blood was. "After your little victory, you are his little pet, whilst my son is tortured at every one. Yet you still arrive, enjoy watching the Cruciatus curse cast on a young boy, do you?"

"Narcissa, a pleasure to see you too, as always," replied Severus Snape, trying his best not to roll her eyes.

"Why did you do it, Severus? Why did you have to do it?" wept Narcissa in her rage and anguish. Her son, her only son, was being reduced to unthinkable suffering every week, and she could do nought but stand and watch. It was all becoming too much for her, and it took a lot for her to not break down in tears.

"I had to, I made the Unbreakable Vow, if you recall," replied Snape, a hint of guilt in his voice that he seemed determined not to show. "I had to do it. You weren't there, Cissy, he couldn't do it, Dumbledore sweet talked him out of it. What did you expect me to do? If Dumbledore wasn't killed at all, then your son would be receiving more than a few light torture sessions."

She looked at him with disbelief at his words. "I asked you to help him, Snape, but now you have put him in a worse position than if you hadn't done anything! Don't you understand what this is doing to him, Severus? He cries in the night; I see him rolling around in his sleep, muttering things about Potter, screaming. I would rather my son were put into a state where he didn't have to feel this pain anymore, even if that did mean losing him."

Before he could retaliate she rushed ahead, tears rolling down her cheeks as she thought back on the recent events and how they had unfolded. Her mood never changed from anguish and grief; sometimes she believed her husband was lucky being locked away. Her thoughts subsided as she joined the large circle of hooded, cloaked figures. Once she took up her position in the circle, she straightened herself up and put on her usual expressionless face—she always felt as though the Dark Lord could see through the mask.

After a few moments she realised something and was pleasantly surprised for to see that her son wasn't in the middle, waiting for the Dark Lord to come and deal his punishment .

In the centre of the circle of Death Eaters, as there was every meeting, was a magical clock, hovering ten feet in the air surrounded by black clouds, the numbers and handles floating in the air in the rough positions they should be. As soon as the clock struck midnight, there was a loud crack and he appeared; The Dark Lord had arrived.

"Tonight, my loyal companions, tonight we are to plan something that requires all evening, which means that young Mister Malfoy's punishment will have to wait," he said. His voice was calm but still had the same chilling feeling of it, the voice never leaving your ears, even though you couldn't quite understand what the voice was saying. "However, not to worry, as he will have twice the punishment next time."

A few chuckles were heard from various different positions of the circle, but they died away almost instantly as the Dark Lord raised his hand for silence.

_Bastards _thought Narcissa, as she cringed behind her mask at her Lord's last words.

"Tomorrow, some of you may know, is the wedding of the blood traitors known as The Weasleys. However, I do not go about disrupting weddings of the pathetic blood traitors that happen to be close; no, this wedding has a very special importance, because as many of you may know, from the information young Mister Malfoy gave us before his punishments started…" He paused for a moment, so he could allow a few of the Death Eaters to snicker loudly. "Yes, as we were told, Harry Potter is very close to the family, so the chances of his being there are very high."

"I have an important mission for all of you. Tomorrow we are to raid the wedding. I have placed a spy in there and they will lower the defences when the time is right. Here is what we are all to do."

Harry awoke frighteningly early the following morning due to the scratching and hooting of an owl at his window. It was Pig with a reply from Hermione. Not that Harry thought one was needed, but it was there nonetheless.

_Harry,_

_Sorry for not being more informative last night, but the letter was rather rushed. Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know you are expected here between 8.00 and 9.00 this morning, with your dress robes so you can get changed when you arrive. Tom has been given a Portkey for you. To arrive, just say "Internet" when you hold it (I came up with the code-word, I assumed no dark wizard would guess it), and you should arrive in the kitchen._

_We can't wait to hear about your summer and how the Dursleys have been treating you this year._

_Lots of love,_

_Hermione xx_

Harry absently glanced at his watch as he read the letter. Seeing that he still had around three hours until he had to leave for the Weasleys, Harry thought he would fold up everything as neatly as he could and sort out his trunk properly, rather than throwing everything in as he had done in previous years. As he emptied the trunk he saw a few old things that he hadn't realised he still possessed until now, such as a jar of ever-changing coloured ink, some sugar quills that didn't look quite so delicious and some very out-of-date owl treats. As he was sweeping the bottom of his trunk with his hand, his finger cut on something sharp. As he looked into the trunk he saw the shattered pieces of the two-way mirror Sirius had given to him that Christmas. Anger took over Harry for a brief moment, only to be replaced by sorrow.

Harry decided that since this was the last thing he had from his late godfather, he would keep it as best he could. He cast _Reparo _on the mirror, which he knew would not restore the magic to it, but would at least put it back into once piece. He then carefully placed it in one of the small side compartments he had in his trunk. This was the first time Harry had actually seen his trunk empty since he first purchased it; it looked so much bigger back then, and he had so much more stuff now.

Several minutes after, Harry started reminiscing his past—how his life had improved, and then declined in the last seven years. He was pulled back to reality by the creak of a floorboard outside his room. He instinctively reached for his wand and pointed it in the direction of the door.

"Who's there?" said Harry in a false, gruff voice. "Who is it, I say?"

"It's just me, Mr. Potter," replied Tom. "We will start serving breakfast at six o'clock; if you don't already know, that's in half an hour."

"Thank you, Tom, I'll be down shortly."

So, Harry started to fold his clothing and put them at the bottom of his trunk on the left side; it didn't surprise him to find that they barely filled a corner of his trunk. Next he placed his books laid spine-upwards in a different corner. He continued to order his trunk in this fashion, placing quills and other things in the small side compartments. It surprised him how much space he had left in his trunk when he arranged everything like this.

Next he cleaned out Hedwig's cage using magic, as he was surprised at how messy it had managed to get over the last few days. Once he was all done he scanned the room, making sure there was nothing he had missed. He then spotted the trousers he'd been wearing the other night laying in a corner.

"Damn it, I knew there would be something I'd leave on the floor," Harry muttered to himself.

When he picked up the trousers and put his hand through one of the legs to make the outsides on the outside and the insides on the in, he felt the letter his Aunt Petunia had given him before he left. This time curiosity took the best of him as he sat there, staring at the envelope. He ripped open the glue and unfolded the letter that was inside it.

_Mr and Mrs V Dursley,_

_It is my deepest regret to inform you that Lily Potter, sister to Mrs Petunia Dursley, and her husband have been murdered by the Dark Lord Voldemort. This may come as a shock to you, but you must set aside your grief and read what I am about to tell you._

_A prophecy was foretold a while ago, informing me of events that will unfold sometime in the future, but I cannot predict when. I do not have the time to recite to you exactly what it says, but it states that Voldemort has marked young Harry Potter as his equal and when he rises back to power, they must battle, as neither can live whilst the other survives._

_It is vital that Harry is raised properly, since if he does not defeat Voldemort, the entire world will plummet into darkness. All of your kind will be murdered and nothing will be as we know it today. You are the next in line to Lily and James Potter, so you and you alone are the only ones who can take care of Harry. The strongest and most ancient spells have been placed on and around your home, ensuring that Harry will be safe and undetectable at your place of residence, as long as he can still call Number 4 Privet Drive his home. These enchantments will no longer work on his seventeenth birthday, or if you ever let him know that he is no longer welcome in your home. You are not in danger unless you ever let Harry know he is not welcome there._

_Until Harry has defeated Voldemort, nobody is safe, so the fate of the world rests on your shoulders. The chances that Mr Potter will fail against Voldemort are very high at the moment, but as long as he is hidden he is safe. When he turns eleven he will receive a letter inviting him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he will remain until every summer. Be aware, however, that Harry will be an extraordinary wizard; he may not always be in control of his actions._

_With regards,_

_Albus__ Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Harry could hardly believe his eyes as he read it. Emotions and thoughts flowed through him freely and he had difficulty focusing on one at a time; he wanted to cry, he wanted to shout, he wanted to curl in a ball and never stop.

_They knew, _he thought. _They knew all along and never told me. This explains so much—the Howler Aunt Petunia received when the Dementors attacked, why they never sent me to an orphanage, and why they never let me read my letters from Hogwarts. How could they do this to me? How could they know the fate of the world relies entirely on me and treat me the way they did?_

The blood was pumping through Harry so fast he had to sit down and gather his breath. He lifted his wand to the piece of parchment and started to say _Incendio_, but then thought better of it. He had to show this to Ron and Hermione, see what they would say.

Draco was sitting in an armchair in his bedroom, staring out at the sunrise, when he heard a sharp knock at his bedroom door.

"Enter," stated Draco, not impolitely, "Mother."

Narcissa Malfoy entered Draco's room and looked at him sitting in the chair, bruises visible down his arms from his weeks of torture.

"Darling," she said, sympathy showing in her voice, "I have to leave now, we have to gather before the invasion. I wish I could stay, but the Dark Lord will not allow it, you know he will not send you on a mission again. I am the only one left to show we are still loyal to him."

"Mother, why don't we go into hiding? I'm sure the Order would--"

"The Order?" she spat. "They would hide us, yes, but not after they have extracted every piece of information out of us they can, not before they look down their noses at us as though we are nothing but what they would find on the bottom of their boots. I will not lower myself so, Draco."

"You're too proud, Mother. We need them, I know you would never want me to admit it, but we do. Please, Mother, please, we can survive this war, but we need to be on the right side."

"Draco please, stop this. I will see you tonight at dinner," she said, returning to her normal stern voice. "I expect you to be washed and dressed by at least then."

Draco drew a long breath after she swept from the room. He knew what he needed to do, no matter the effect it would have on his family. He went to his desk and smoothed out a fresh piece of parchment.

_Invasion today at the wedding, be prepared. There's a spy in your midst; trust no one, keep the guest list exclusive. I am sorry._

Draco placed it in an envelope and didn't sign it. He called the most inconspicuous owl he could find in their barn, and then sent the letter to the Weasleys. He sat there, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"I am so sorry, Mother, please forgive me," he said, and then started to pack his belongings.

Harry was finishing a bottle of Butter Beer when the clock in the Leaky Cauldron struck eight. He could not contain the fact that he was relieved the time had come for him to depart; he had discovered too much in this place and needed to leave.

He gave Tom a strange look as he placed an old dirty Butter Beer bottle in front of him. He wondered if the bartender had finally gone mad when it struck him what it was—the Portkey.

"Internet," said Harry when he plucked the bottle from the bar, his hand on his trunk and Hedwig's cage when he did. He had the now familiar feeling of being pulled from the air and his hands being glued to the bottle and his belongings. He was starting to enjoy the sensation, as though he was finally free, when he slammed onto the Weasleys' kitchen floor, his knees giving way.

"Harry!" shouted Hermione, running towards him and knocking him to the ground before he could stand up properly.

He looked up at her lying on top of him and giving him a hug, and then glanced at Ron's face and saw him giving a funny look towards the scene, not knowing whether to be amused or angry. Harry slid Hermione off of him and stood up.

"Let me stand up next time?" said Harry before starting to laugh heartily at her. To his immense relief, Ron and Hermione joined in with the laughter.

Soon enough they were all sitting around the kitchen table discussing their summers, and their sorrows and dreads disappeared for a while. It felt nice to be speaking to his two friends again. He couldn't imagine being without either one of them.

"And then this gnome ran straight up behind me and bit me straight on the ar—" Ron said, being cut off before his story had finished.

"Harry, dear!" said Mrs. Weasley, a little louder than necessary, as though she was deliberately trying to drown out Ron's story. "It's so good to see you. How was your summer, dear? The Muggles treating you okay, yes? Looking a little peaky again, I'll put some breakfast on."

Harry looked confused, but smiled nonetheless. As he didn't have time to answer any of the questions, he just decided to settle for giving her a general answer. "My summer was fine, thanks, Mrs Weasley, we were just discussing it, actually."

She was too busy bustling around with the breakfast utensils to pay him any notice, but he didn't take it to heart and resumed talking with Ron and Hermione.

"So, what did you guys think about the letter?" Harry asked, trying to make it sound as casual as possible but failing miserably. "I mean, who could it be?"

Hermione kicked him under the table and threw a look towards Mrs. Weasley, who was putting some sausages on the fry. She mouthed "After," to him and put on a smile as Mrs Weasley turned round to listen to what they were discussing.

"Exactly, Harry, we were talking about the exact same thing earlier, our NEWTs this year. I mean, I already started revising after our OWLs, but I just know I haven't studied Potions enough."

"Yes, Hermione," said Ron. "When you get all of your Os, we know how disappointed you'll be."

"Oh, don't say that, Ron, I do not even want to think that positively when we could slip up on anything at any given point. All it takes is one bad day! I expect I'll get all Os and Es," she said in good humour, touching his leg whilst giggling after speaking to him.

Harry smirked to himself. They were so obviously a couple now, he couldn't understand why they weren't telling him up front, as they were doing a pretty bad job of hiding it.

"What are you smiling at?" asked Hermione whilst quickly whipping her hand away from Ron's leg.

"Oh, nothing," said Harry, holding back a laugh. "Nothing at all."

When breakfast was served, other members of the family started to join them, which Harry enjoyed enough, as Mr Weasley's constant questions about simple Muggle machinery often amused him. When Ginny walked in, however, he froze in his seat, not knowing what to do. The only free seat left at the table was right next to him,

"Oh, hiya Harry," said Ginny. "I didn't realise you had arrived yet."

She knew that she couldn't style out leaving the kitchen now, so she sat next to Harry and started to add some bacon and sausages to her plate. Ron and Hermione were trying to stifle their laughter at Harry's predicament whilst the others at the table pretended to be deep in conversation, at the same time waiting for Harry's reply.

"Erm, hi, Ginny," said Harry, stuttering.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Harry was yelling at himself in his head. He just wanted to sink into the chair and become part of it.

As the morning progressed, more and more people started to arrive at The Burrow, including Ron's Aunt Muriel, who Harry found to be particularly funny, as she seemed to insult everything and everyone who walked past her.

One particularly memorable comment was when Fleur was walking up the stairs to get her hair done, wearing a night-dress. Muriel commented, "So he's marrying that, is he? The Veela, thinking their better than us. Well, let me tell you something, she hasn't yet learned to shave up there, the bloody girl, no wonder William is looking so depressed all the time, aside from of course having his condition."

It took a lot of self-restraint to stop the pumpkin juice from flying through his nostrils. She then stuck her leg out as Ron rushed past to go to the bathroom. "Ronald, your hair must have got in your eyes if you can't see where you're walking, it's getting as long as Ginevra's. Really, boy, a trim doesn't cost much, even to you lot!"

These sorts of comments kept Harry amused until the time came for him to get dressed for the wedding. He passed Ginny's room on his way up to the top floor and saw her. She was wearing the most beautiful lilac dress, with a light purple flower in her hair and a matching bow around her waist. Her hair was put into a bun on her head, but with loose strands to frame her face. She was only missing a halo to be an angel. However, besides all of this, Harry did not feel the slightest bit of the attraction he had felt towards her last year at all; he just wanted to give her a hug and tell her she looked okay, even though it was an understatement. It was one a brother would give.

"You coming, Harry?" shouted Ron from the next floor.

"Yeah, I'm coming now."

"Good, I got new dress robes that I want to show you, I begged Mum all summer..."

Harry started to laugh as he started up the stairs and let Ron carry on, Harry half-listening to what it was he was saying. He was surprised to see Hermione sitting in the room when they got to the top floor; he had thought she was getting ready with Ginny.

"Are you going to get ready at some point today?" asked Harry playfully.

"Oh, ha ha, you're hilarious," said Hermione. "We needed a cover story to talk without Mrs Weasley making an excuse to 'come and get the laundry', and that's you two getting ready for the wedding."

"I was with you at 'cover story', but thanks for the explanation."

"So, what do you guys think about this T. P. person? It obviously stands for something, like initials, really."

"And the award for stating-the-obvious goes to Mr Ron Weasley," said Hermione as she and Harry laughed, which seemed to annoy Ron for a few minutes until he gave in to their laughter.

"I think it's somebody playing a prank," said Harry, which sounded like a sudden comment even though they were debating about the subject. "I mean, come on, I can't imagine anybody finishing a letter with 'Sorry' because the only people who have any reason to be sorry wouldn't apologise anyway."

"Amazingly, I understand what you mean; it does seem a little...odd, doesn't it?" Hermione said, nodding.

"We should be able to start tracking where owls come from," said Ron with an exasperated tone. "I mean, anyone can send the most random things they can and we'd have no idea who they're from."

"Yeah, but imagine the fun Voldemort would have with that; as if he doesn't have enough power when it comes to finding people as it is."

Half an hour later, when Hermione really had to start getting ready if she was going to get her hair and make-up done before the wedding, they had finished debating about the identity of "T. P." They decided the identity of whoever it was didn't really matter, as it was probably just a prank pulled by some stupid Slytherin. Harry wasn't too sure about this, but went along with it, anyway. He wasn't going to worry unless he got another message.

The rest of the debate was about over who it was that had broken into Dumbledore's tomb, as the amount of spells and enchantments that were cast on it, they assumed, were astronomical, so it must have been somebody who possessed great magic. The thing that made them the most curious was why somebody would have broken into the tomb in the first place. They couldn't be positive, however, until they could read a copy of _The Daily Prophet,_ which was difficult as Mrs Weasley had banned 'that piece of rag' from her home since the summer before their fifth year.

After Harry had gotten dressed and had stubbornly attacked his hair with several combs—not that it did him much good—he wandered downstairs towards the garden to see how things were looking. He was yelling something over his shoulder to Hermione, who rushed past him with her arms full with different sorts of hair care products, when he stepped out the back door. His jaw dropped. He had never seen the garden look so beautiful in all of the years he had been visiting the Weasleys' home.

A white pathway had been constructed out of wood and led up to a beautiful alter. It had an assortment of white and purple lilies wrapped around it, growing like the most fascinating ivy. Also surrounding the stool, where Harry assumed the wizarding interpretation of a priest would stand to marry the couple, was a web of what seemed to be fairy lights—not the cheap Muggle ones you find on Christmas trees, but actual floating orbs of light from a fairy.

The lawn was neatly trimmed and de-gnomed, with all of the flowers and bushes transformed into different shades and variations of white and purple. A huge tent had erupted on the other half of the garden, which Harry could not see inside of yet, but the outside was glowing with more fairy lights. Turning back to the altar, Harry saw Mrs Weasley arranging the white chairs with purple ribbons tied around them in a semi-rounded pattern that was most intriguing; it seemed that everybody would be able to see the entire wedding from that spot.

"Harry, dear," said Mrs Weasley with a smile when she spotted him. "So good to see you. Come, what do you think?"

"It looks beautiful, Mrs Weasley, truly, I do not think I have ever seen such a beautiful place," said Harry without a hint of mockery.

She beamed. "Oh, you are too kind. It took a while, but we are so pleased with the result."

Harry was about to reply to her when he noticed a grey barn owl flying towards them, a sealed envelope in its beak. The letter dropped at Mrs Weasley's feet. She picked it up, looking quite surprised, as all had been informed to not send owls to avoid attraction to The Burrow today.

Her expression hardened as her eyes went over the letter, and then very quickly changed to anger and confusion. She bade Harry a silent goodbye as she rushed inside, dropping the letter in his hands as she swept past. He read the letter and, although he didn't know it, his facial expressions changed in the exact same way Mrs Weasley's had.

Fleur was about to make her grand entrance. Harry knew it was going to happen because, like in Muggle weddings, the music started to play a soft and grand tune. Heads turned to the entrance of the marrying aisle and they saw her. Her hair was tied in a loose bun on the top of her head, with curls drifting from it and framing her face. She looked stunning; she made every man in the crowd gawk and stare, not being afraid to let their attraction be known.

Harry, surprising even himself, was the only member of the audience not to be enthralled by the blonde beauty gliding down the aisle before him. Her white dress, with perfectly placed white beads attached, was being held by two younger beauties, one with fiery hair and one with the blonde of the bride. However, they looked like mere insects in comparison to the beauty to whom they were following. His mind was too busy racing about what he had read in the letter. He had rushed inside to see the course of action. All of the protection had been triple guarded and every single crowd member had been checked thrice before being allowed in The Burrow, but Harry still felt as though something was going to happen. He could feel it.

He glanced at Fleur as she passed him. _She looks pretty, _he thought absently. _Pretty? Seriously, pretty? No normal man would think that! She looks hot, I guess. Oh God, why isn't my tongue in my lap like the rest of these men? _Harry started to think, becoming unnecessarily worried about why he wasn't having the 'correct' reaction to Fleur. However, this quickly subsided when he saw another fifteen Aurors Apparate near The Burrow, and his mind went back to worrying about an attack.

The wedding was surprisingly uneventful. Everything seemed to run perfectly. The wedding was very similar to a Muggle one, which surprised Harry, but he could not see why; it would only make sense, since they shared the same sort of traditions. Before he knew it he was sitting inside the tent, which didn't look quite as elegant as the outside was, but nevertheless was completely flawless. Despite all of this, he had immense difficulty focusing on his surroundings and being able to enjoy the evening, as he was expecting an attack around every corner.

Harry was drawn back to reality when Fleur sat next to him and started a conversation that Harry was not aware he was having until she touched his arm, It didn't take him long to catch up with what she was saying, however.

"Ooo, Ron iz about to give ze speech he wrote spezeefically for ze wedding," she said with excitement, clapping her hands in delight. Harry had to contain himself from rolling his eyes. He had never quite gotten used to Fleur and her odd ways.

"Okay, so, as most of you may know, I am not the best for writing, or speaking for that matter, so this is my lame interpretation of what you could call a speech," said Ron, smiling to the audience, who were chuckling. "Hem hem. So, my brother Bill, well, the things I could say about him. He was always the same from ever since I can remember—the cool brother, the one who was always there for the rest of us whenever Mum was on a rampage over the latest crisis.

"Then there's Fleur. I remember when I first met her, when she came to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. Oh, she was so fine, we all thought we were gonna di—" And that was that.

Harry saw it flying through the air, and it seemed to be in slow motion but his body couldn't move, it was like he was paralysed. He could only scream one thing: "RON!"

It hit him square in the chest, and he fell. It was amazing how a small jet of green light could destroy everything. Ron had fallen.

**Ooo-er, the suspense, the drama, the lust for more. Well, give me reviews and you'll get more sooner, my good friends. Special shout out to my wonderful beta Kelsey, she is my muse ********.**

**Beta's thoughts: I'll have to admit that I actually had to reassure myself that this is indeed a Harry/Draco story, when I was at the part involving Ginny. No offence to her, of course, but…yeah. Harry just…belongs to other guys :) And I'm also a little glad that Ron might be dead. Harry angst, anyone? Yes? No? Review, and on comes the slash! (And I only get chapters when the writer has the enthusiasm to write, which is when you review, which means that I can't get my slash either until you do, so please, just tell him what you think?)**


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